


Fuckin' A

by cimorene



Category: Askewniverse
Genre: Cuddling, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cimorene/pseuds/cimorene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's snowing, Jay has a cold, and then the heater breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuckin' A

**Author's Note:**

> First published in 2004. For irisbleufic.

The snow fell fast and made the parking lot the same color as the sky and the wall of the Quick Stop: dirty white. Silent Bob was propping up the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat clenched into fists to warm his fingers. Jay bobbed his head and his whole upper body to some silent music. His dancing wasn't up to standard today - it's hard to dance right with your hands in your pockets.

"Yo, Silent Bob," said Jay, turning with an air of revelation, "this fuckin' weather's fuckin' shit, man. I don't got nothin' against snowballs but this ain't even enough snow for a good snowball fight. Besides we can't even make snow angels and I love me some snow angels, specially when they gots some nice titties on em."

Silent Bob squinted at Jay patiently.

"Man, it's so cold your face is turning red and that don't never happen cause you're such a tubby bitch and all that fat acts as good insulation against the cold, man, it's times like this I wish I was fat like you. I bet my lips are turning blue." Silent Bob nodded. "Shit, man, and my face is gonna be so fuckin' white I ain't never gonna get another tan. You could make the fuckin' American flag out of your face and my face, Silent Bob, and I ain't never been no patriot. Fuck this shit, let's go home and have some nice cocoa and a hot fire."

Jay started to stride towards the bus stop. The ground, slushy-slippery, put a kind of crimp in his usual swagger. He'd fallen on his ass enough times to learn better by now. He turned around when he sensed Bob wasn't behind him as usual.

"Come on, man, what's your problem?"

Silent Bob shrugged and rolled his eyes. Do you ever think about anything? We've only been here an hour. No sales.

"Shit, man, I don't give a fuck about the sales, and what do you care, man, you've already got your leather jacket, and besides I run this show. Don't forget who's the bitch here, Silent Bob."

Silent Bob let that one go. He mimed drinking hot cocoa, shrugged. He didn't bother to mention that they didn't have a fireplace.

"Hershey's bars and coffee ain't good enough for you? Aight, we'll go in the Quick Stop and pick us up some Swiss Miss," said Jay, who still hadn't taken his hands out of his pockets. "But damn, Silent Bob, you was the one who was just complainin' about money, I don't wanna hear another word outta you about the sales, man, I mean I don't wanna see you rollin' your eyes neither."

Ten minutes later they were on the bus with the box of Swiss Miss stowed in Silent Bob's trench coat, and Jay, draped limply around Bob's shoulder, was complaining again. "Can't they turn up the heat back here?" he asked for the fifth time, almost right in Bob's ear.

Bob turned his head.

Jay was getting seriously cranky - worse than usual. When they were kids this would have meant within a few days he'd be coughing up lungs right and left, sweating with fever, and moaning and groaning. But Jay hardly got sick anymore, through some kind of reverse karma, maybe, so that meant Bob was inclined to worry. He was all out of practice with sick Jay. They could afford to turn the heat up maybe, and if they couldn't he would anyway, but their apartment didn't have the best insulation on the block. He liked to watch movies with his sneakers on to stop the drafts. And Jay's bedroom was the coldest of all. The cracks around the window were stuffed with newspaper, but the heat still left as fast as it came in.

"My hands ain't never been this cold, Silent Bob, don't you got some gloves in that fuckin' Matrix coat?" Jay whined.

Bob shrugged and twitched an eyebrow. Why would I have gloves? Silent Bob never wore gloves. Instead he took his own bare hands out of his pockets, rubbed them together briskly to warm them up, and held one out palm up.

"What's that mean, Silent Bob, show me the money? You practicin' Buddhism or shit now? I never took you for a fuckin' Buddhist, man."

Bob rolled his eyes. Without dislodging Jay from his shoulder, it was hard to find his hands, but a bit of groping ("Silent Bob, the bus is no time or place to satisfy your unrequited desire for my dick. Shit man, I told you I'm not like that") led him to the kangaroo pocket in the front of the hooded sweatshirt Jay had on under his jacket. He pulled out both the hands - long, thin hands, whiter at the knuckles - and folded them between his own.

They didn't entirely fit. Jay's hands were big, big enough to spread out all over the side of a basketball. They curled up awkwardly, fingertips escaping the cocoon. Silent Bob brought them up a little, breathed on them, and chafed them gently. He raised one eyebrow at Jay, who had lifted his head to stare curiously, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh I get it," he said finally, "you're rubbing 'em to get the blood back in my fingers, I've heard about that circulation before. Shit Silent Bob, you don't gotta be so damn close-mouthed all the time, you coulda told me that's what you were doing. I always gotta be on the lookout for you putting the moves on me. I know you want this ass."

Silent Bob shook his head and rolled his eyes, and Jay smiled a little in satisfaction without real anger, and settled back on Bob's shoulder.

By the time they made their stop Jay had been shivering for long enough that Bob had opened one side of the trench coat and tried to wrap them both in it. Jay's face was red too, and when they got up for the walk to their apartment there was sweat on his forehead.

"Shit, man, my hands are cold again already," he muttered, stuffing them in his pockets. Bob made sure to walk a little closer than usual just in case, but Jay made it all the way to the door, except for having to lean against the wall at the top of the stairs and pant a little. "Fuck, who put more stairs in this fuckin' staircase?" he bitched while Silent Bob unlocked the door.

The living room was just like they'd left it a few hours ago but colder. "Shit, man, turn up the heat, isn't it supposed to be warmer INSIDE?" Jay said, collapsing on the couch. Bob ducked into the hall and considered the thermostat, which he finally put all the way up at 82. It wasn't like the apartment could get near that hot but it couldn't hurt for the heater to work at it. "Bitch, weren't we gonna have a fire and some hot cocoa?" Jay said from the couch.

Bob went back in the living room to find Jay shivering a little, his feet pulled up, with the ratty blanket from the back of the couch wrapped around his shoulders. His teeth were chattering. He was red-faced and sullen. "I'd take care of the fire but we don't got no fuckin' fireplace man, so how bout you hurry up and get me my motherfuckin' hot cocoa, I ain't got all day."

Bob raised his eyebrows, but he didn't say anything. Chocolate wasn't exactly chicken soup, but anything hot would probably be good. He didn't like seeing Jay's teeth chattering.

When he came into the living room with a pile of blankets from his bed and Jay's and a cup of hot cocoa the TV was on, but the snow must have been interfering with the reception because there were white lines all the way through the Thundercats. Jay wasn't watching anyway, because his eyes were closed. When Bob settled onto the couch next to him, juggling the pile of blankets and the mug, he said, "If you wanna watch cartoons too you can sit there but we ain't switchin' to no Sixteen Candles, and don't think you can fuckin' steal my blanket, man, I don't care if you freeze out there, you ain't gettin' any of it."

Ignoring him, Bob put down the mug, settled into the couch cushions, and started unfolding the top blanket from the pile. When he'd got it halfway spread out over his lap he reached around Jay to peel back the couch blanket, which was really a disgrace to blanket-kind, more like a rag. It looked like it had been somebody's dog's blanket until the dog refused to sit on it anymore. There were threadbare spots interspersed with actual holes, mystery stains, and a satin ribbon binding on the edge had gone colorless and was tearing off. The whole thing was worn to about the thickness of tissue paper.

But when he went to pull it off Jay yelped and cursed and lashed out, kicking Bob's thigh hard with one foot still in its shoe. It didn't hurt too bad. "Fuck, Lunchbox, I told you no sharing the blanket! I'm fuckin' freezin' my nuts off and I don't got no subcutaneous fat layer!" Bob waited patiently, holding the blanket, until Jay's eyes slitted open. "Fuck off you tubby cocksmok - oh. Why the fuck you just sittin' there, man, gimme the blankets! We can't all be as warm as your fat ass."

Bob made a little wave - Jay was still wearing his coat and jeans and boots, and they were probably keeping him cold. Jay just stared uncomprehending, so Bob sighed, put the blankets down ("Hey, you fat fuck, gimme them blankets!") and manually started tugging off Jay's shoes. ("Oh.")

Shoes led to socks. Socks led to pants. Jay just wriggled and muttered "Ow, man, you don't gotta beat me up," without making a single crack about the goods, sucking his dick or wanting his ass, even when Silent Bob undid his zipper.

He must be getting worse. When he was down to boxers and his sweatshirt, Jay's teeth were chattering violently. "Shit, man, didn't I tell you to turn up the heat?"

Bob nodded, jerked his chin at the hall and shrugged.

"You already did?"

Nod.

"Shit, I'm callin' the landlord, that cocksmoker needs to get somethin' fixed. It's like a meat locker in here." In fact, it was getting warmer, although there was still a draft. Bob finished wrapping two more blankets around Jay, who sat huddled on the couch cushion with his feet tucked under him, staring numbly at the television.

Bob went in his room, shed his trench and boots, and took the gloves out of one of the inside pockets to stuff them in the back of his sock drawer.

When he came back, Jay hadn't drunk his cocoa. Bob put it in his hand, and it seemed to take him a second to remember what it was for. "Oh," he said. "It's about motherfuckin' time."

Bob shook his head and went to make himself a cup. He wasn't exactly tired, but he was ready to sit down on the couch. It wasn't often that he did this much walking back and forth. Silent Bob liked to sit on the couch (or a bench, or the wall) and watch things happen around him, including Jay, who never seemed to stay still even when he was sitting.

While the microwave hummed in the background, Silent Bob looked into the living room. Jay'd drunk about half the cocoa and put it down again. His hands were inside the pile of blankets, but he'd pulled them down off his neck. His face was red.

"You gave me too much cocoa, Silent Bob," said Jay. "I ain't no chick on Valentine's Day and it's not even Valentine's Day anyway, and I sure as motherfuck wouldn't be your gay valentine, so what's with all that chocolate anyway? I need a real drink."

By the time Bob had poured him a glass of water (he wasn't about to give him beer) the microwave beeped. Jay drank the whole glass without seeming to notice it wasn't anything he would call a "real drink" usually.

When Silent Bob came back in the living room again with his cocoa, Jay seemed to be in some kind of trance - staring at the TV, but his eyes weren't moving. Bob eyed him carefully for a minute, but he seemed to be breathing okay. He shrugged and finished his cocoa, and when he was turning around to go in the kitchen, Jay burst out, "Silent Bob, you don't gotta be walkin' all over the place all the time like that, you're givin' me the creeps. I always told your fat ass to get more exercise but I didn't mean in the living room when I'm tryin' to watch the fuckin' Thundercats. Sit down before you give me a heart attack man. I can't get comfortable on this fuckin' couch, piecea shit, we should just leave it for the garbage man and watch TV on the floor."

Silent Bob looked incredulously at Jay. He really liked the couch. It was old and well broken-in. The cushions were finally just right, shaped like Silent Bob and Jay, or like Bob stretched out. They fit no matter what. It took a long time to break in a couch right.

Jay rolled his eyes. "I know man, but this motherfucker's almost wore through down to the floor. There's barely a cushion. You don't gotta look at me like that, Bob, I's just sayin' the couch isn't very good, shit."

Bob shrugged and moved to sit down. He sort of had to climb in, what with all the blankets. Jay was still curled up in a ball, but it didn't take him very long to spread the blankets over both of them and burrow into Bob's side.

Through most of Thundercats Jay shivered, and he hadn't stopped by the end even though then he was sweating too. He kept saying he was cold. Bob felt his forehead a couple of times, and Jay just winced and said things like "Tubby bitch, I bet it wouldn't hurt the fuck outta your elbows to lie on the couch like this, but it's just gotta be this old-as-fuck couch for you, no other couch is good enough. Shit." (Bob moved Jay around until he wasn't lying on his elbows anymore, but halfway between the arm of the couch and Bob's stomach.) (After that he was able to stretch his legs to the far end of the couch, and stopped shifting around so much.)

It was around the middle of the Powerpuff Girls that Jay said, peeling back the final layer of blankets until most of his torso was exposed to the air, "Fuck it's getting hot in here. You don't gotta keep messin' with the thermostat man, first it's too cold, now you've got it all the way up at ninety or somethin.'"

Silent Bob just shook his head. He hadn't touched the thermostat again; he'd been under Jay for an hour.

Jay tried to lever himself up a little, elbows jabbing into Bob's thighs, and fanned his face. "Shit," he groaned, and dropped back down. Silent Bob's legs were going to sleep.

So was Jay.

Silent Bob sighed, leaned back, and resigned himself to being a pillow, and to one hell of a case of pins and needles when he finally got to move.

He woke up hours later - eight pm by the clock on the VCR. The TV was still on, the light was still on, it was pitch black and snowing outside the blinds, two of the blankets were on the floor, and Jay was shivering.

And so was Silent Bob. He shook his head to clear it, and pulled his hand out from underneath the blanket. The air was genuinely freezing. He leaned over and pulled the blankets back up. Jay didn't even wake up at having his head and shoulders lifted.

Both of Bob's legs were asleep, so he sort of staggered to the thermostat, scowling at his feet, which were numb and burning with pins and needles alternately. The thermostat was at eighty where he'd left it. He tried turning it up. He tried turning it down. He flicked the switch from heat to cool and back. He went in the kitchen and there was frost forming on the inside of the glass.

Fuck.

When he'd finally, defeated, decided there was not a way in hell he could get the heat back on and there was no one he could call at this time of night, Silent Bob trudged tiredly back into the living room in his trench coat, blowing clouds of steam in the air.

The blankets on the couch moved a little and a muffled voice emerged from them. "Yo Lunchbox, I think I'm really sick or somethin'."

Bob would have nodded, but Jay's face was still buried in the blankets.

He took off his trench coat and then, shivering a little, his sweatshirt and sweatpants, and nudged Jay over. Jay sat up enough to let him sit down, but then he got dizzy and sort of fell back over against Bob, mumbling confusedly. Bob felt the warm weight on his shoulder and his lap, sighed, and stopped moving for a second. "Shit," Jay muttered.

Getting under the blankets without getting Jay out of them was trouble, but he couldn't leave his feet to freeze, so Bob worked at it a little, trying to move slowly and not disturb Jay's sprawling posture.

After one too many jostles Jay's irritated voice came out of the blankets again. "What're you doin' with the blankets, man?" said Jay. "Ow, is that your knee? Fuck, you wanna snuggle just say so, you don't gotta push me around like that."

Silent Bob blinked and replayed what Jay had just said.

"Yeah, I said if you wanna snuggle. Well," Jay demanded, "you wanna?"

Why not? Bob nodded once, cautiously.

Jay smiled. "I knew it man, I fuckin' knew it." Jay made him stretch out, shoving and pulling at his knees and arms, until Bob's feet were at the other end of the couch and Jay sort of sitting on him. Then he spread the edges of the blankets over him and tucked them around. Then he settled down in the space between Bob and the edge of the couch while Bob stayed still and let him, somewhat bemused.

He hadn't known what to expect. It wasn't the same as when they fell asleep on the couch, or a bus seat or a park bench. Jay was cold and so he was making an effort to snuggle, burrowing against Bob searching for all the contact he could get, moving the blankets out from in between them and tugging them close around. He tucked his head under Bob's chin in the end and shivered one last time, a long slow shiver that Bob could feel travel over Jay's body through every bit of it he touched. He was afraid to move.

"You know what Silent Bob," said Jay, yawning, "I don't think I'm cold anymore."

Jay and Silent Bob both slept _really_ well.

Neither of them ventured out from under the covers the next morning until sunlight had started to warm the room. When he got up to take a piss, Silent Bob realized the heat was working. Someone else in the building must've complained. By the clock it was almost ten am. The heaters were humming away. He checked the thermostat, lowered it to 78, and went back in the living room.

Jay was scowling at him out of the blankets. Bob, who had been planning to at least sit down under them, paused to evaluate the scowl. It suddenly seemed like maybe the heat wasn't working that well after all. "Fuck Lunchbox," said Jay, "don't think just cause the heater's workin' and everything you can go, man. Shit, I can't sleep like this. The couch is too hard. There's nowhere to put my head."

Without trying very hard to conceal his smile, Silent Bob slid back under the blankets. It was still cold out in the room; it was still warm next to Jay. And even though he was now warm enough, Jay still seemed to want to snuggle. He wriggled slightly around, put his head on Bob's arm, and settled down with a sigh. His eyelids drifted closed. He seemed to be asleep when his hand crept on top of Bob's.

Since he couldn't move with an armful of Jay and didn't really want to, there wasn't much to do except sleep. Bob wasn't sick, but he was happy. He figured he might be able to nap even after twelve or seventeen hours of sleep. He closed his eyes and let his fingers relax, spreading apart, so Jay's could fall between them.

But apparently Jay couldn't sleep so easily either.

"Shit," Jay mumbled without opening his eyes. "Who knew a tubby bitch like you was so good in bed, Silent Bob?"

Startled, Silent Bob opened his eyes and stared down at the top of Jay's head. Maybe the fever was worse than he thought.

"Well, in the couch, whatever. But fuck man, this is what it's about right here." He stretched a little, slowly, his sweat-damp shirt pressing back against Bob's chest, and wriggled closer. "Fuckin' a you're a class act snuggler Silent Bob. It must be all that fat layer like. No wonder the bitches is all over you everywhere we go, they know you're gonna be like an awesome snuggler and they just wanna get you in bed an' cuddle, it ain't even about the sausage."

Oh.

Bob rolled his eyes, even though Jay couldn't see him. He was pretty sure his cheeks were hot, though. It was a good thing he never said anything most of the time because he really wouldn't have known what to say then.

"What I don't get," Jay continued, flattening the sole of his foot along Silent Bob's calf, "is why more people don't snuggle all the time. What, are they stupid or something? Cause damn, if I knew snuggling felt so good I'da dragged your fine ass into bed a long time before now. Snoogans."

Silent Bob agreed completely with Jay about the greatness of snuggling, but he was a little tense. He felt like he was snuggling a ticking time bomb. If he talked as much as Jay, he'd probably have been saying something like, "The fuck?"

"And you know what Silent Bob, I wouldn'ta had to have that fuckin' cold bedroom! Yes, finally, we can have an extra room and you can put all your comics and shit in there. Cause ain't no way I'm sleepin' by myself now, not when I can get the snootchie bootchies. Aw, yeah," Jay said happily, "cause fuck all that shit man, I'm not gonna sit around no more pining for your gay ass, cause your dick is just sex but the snugglin' is just waaaay cooler than that, man, it's like the baby kitties, you gotta show respect."

Silent Bob wasn't sure if he was smiling yet, but he was certainly on the way to it. He was still pretty shocked. Either way, Jay couldn't see what face he was making. There was a little silence.

"We are gonna have sex though, once I get back up to full power, cause you know I'm a horndog machine. And tough luck for all those damn bitches cause you's mine. 'Sides, don't tell me you're not gay for my fine ass anyway, Bob, cause you sure snuggle like you mean it," Jay added.

Silent Bob wondered if this was true. Did he snuggle like he meant it? He didn't have any more practice with snuggling, he thought it was safe to say, than Jay did. There'd only been a little snuggling the times he got laid, and it wasn't like this at all. Silent Bob guessed it was cause those times he didn't mean it. Or cause those people weren't Jay - it's hard to lie still and perfectly content someplace when you're wondering if Jay is doing all right someplace else.

Jay said in a small voice - "Silent Bob?"

It was like waking up, kinda. Bob was lying totally still, which wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him; but Jay was totally still too, now, which was almost impossible for him - wasn't even snuggling really. Since Jay couldn't see the look on his face, Silent Bob moved his mouth close to Jay's ear and murmured, "Jay," and pulled him closer, feeling him relax all over into the snuggle.

"Okay?" said Jay, wriggling contentedly, like the uncertain voice had never been.

"Okay," said Silent Bob, and buried his face in Jay's sweaty neck.

"Fuckin' a, man. Snootchie bootchies!"

Snootchie bootchies, thought Silent Bob. Fuckin' a.


End file.
